But I was a human being, and had a human being's wants: I must not linger where there was nothing to supply them.

Somehow, now that I had once crossed the threshold of this house, and once was brought face to face with its owners, I felt no longer outcast, vagrant, and disowned by the wide world.

Rather an unusual physiognomy; certainly, not indicative of vulgarity or degradation.

He was young—perhaps from twenty-eight to thirty—tall, slender; his face riveted the eye; it was like a Greek face, very pure in outline: quite a straight, classic nose; quite an Athenian mouth and chin.

The want of house or brass (by which I suppose you mean money) does not make a beggar in your sense of the word.

I lay on it motionless as a stone; and to have torn me from it would have been almost to kill me.

I am an orphan, the daughter of a clergyman. My parents died before I could know them. I was brought up a dependent; educated in a charitable institution.

Strange hardships, I imagine—poor, emaciated, pallid wanderer!

I consider that no service degrades which can better our race. I hold that the more arid and unreclaimed the soil where the Christian labourer's task of tillage is appointed him—the scantier the meed his toil brings—the higher the honour.

I felt the consecration of its loneliness: my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep—on the wild colouring communicated to ridge and dell by moss, by heath-bell, by flower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken, and mellow granite crag.